


Steal Away

by bardsdaughter



Category: To the Manor Born
Genre: F/M, To The Manor Born - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bardsdaughter/pseuds/bardsdaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Brabinger had not interrupted Audrey and Richard when Richard announced he was selling Grantleigh?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Proposition

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally written under the pen name Sabra Hamilton. It has been retouched and posted here under the author's current nom de plume.
> 
> The characters in this story belong to Peter Spence and the BBC. No infringement is intended. The characters are merely used as playthings for a writer's muse then returned without harm. The words in italics are taken directly from the dialogue of the series finale.
> 
> Pleas enjoy!

_“I’m leaving. I’m selling up and going back to London.”_

Audrey’s stomach knotted. _“Selling Grantleigh.”_

_“Lock, stock and barrel. I…”_ Richard’s chuckle did little to lift his sagging shoulders, or her plummeting heart. _“I need the money I’m afraid.”_

Her thoughts churned, throwing words intended to comfort against her prostrate heart. Words wouldn’t keep him in her world. They wouldn’t quell the death knell tolling for what might have been. The nightmare she thought she’d left behind in London not more than a week prior was back in full three-dimensional form. _“Oh, Richard.”_

Silence hung as heavy as a fog bank. Not even her pulse dared to sound in her ears. He was leaving. After all her entreaties to her uncle—and to God—he was leaving. And she was loosing someone far more precious than the piece of earth bequeathed to her by generations of fforbes-Hamiltons. _“But I thought Uncle Grevel had arranged things.”_

Richard’s soft sigh chilled her soul. _“Well, yes he did. But…his death occurred at rather an unfortunate moment.”_ Another mirthless sound escaped his throat. _“The deals weren’t signed.”_

Her eyes prickled. She’d loved the old man dearly, yet she felt more anger than grief. The disappointment weighing those dark brown eyes in front of her held the place of mourning. Good lord but she wished she could take his torment away. _“What are you going to do?”_

The upward curl of his lips didn’t ignite amusement in his eyes as it usually did. _“Oh, well I shall survive. It’s just that I need cash and I need it quickly. Selling Grantleigh is the only way I can raise it.”_

Practicality in the face of devastation. That was her Richard. A skill honed by a lifetime of battling the elitists of the world. People who didn’t think he deserved to rise above the slums reserved for the unblessed born of non-English blood. People like _her_.

Three years ago, she would have seen this as justice, as the interloper getting his comeuppance. Now? Now, she would give the last vestiges of her aristocratic roots to save him. But she’d already played her trump card. And the fates had shattered her dreams. She had no more rope left to offer the drowning man. _“I really am terribly sorry.”_

Silence often hides more than sound. That’s what Uncle Grevel often said. It could smother emotions or offer a moment’s reprieve. Allow one to regain control before the tongue could betray the truth with syllable falling too quickly from it. Yet this silence, this absolutely soundless moment threatened thievery as the last glimmer of hope flickered against its killing breath.

Richard covered her hand against her knee. His fingers curled around hers. _“Thank you, Audrey.”_

She sandwiched his hand between hers, grasping the thin thread that still tethered them with all the strength she possessed. _“I’ve been through it all. I’m afraid it’s going to be ghastly for you.”_ And a never-ending nightmare for her.

_“Yes. I’m not looking forward to it.”_

Neither was she. _“Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, you will ask won’t you?”_

It’s all she could due to swallow the gasp of her mind. She’d never offered an open-ended invitation before. Specificity was always the hallmark of any aid she consented to. And if that weren’t possible, she simply didn’t volunteer. But with Richard, for Richard…

He shifted, his grip tightening as his knee brushed against hers. The familiar shimmer of admiration in those chocolate eyes melted into something threatening her very breath. _“Well yes, Audrey. There…there is something I would like to ask.”_  

There was no doubt now. Her offer hadn’t been a simple slip of the tongue. It was her heart finally making itself loud enough to be heard by anyone who cared to listen. She would do _anything_ for this man if he’d only ask. _“Yes?”_


	2. The Answer

Richard was rarely at a loss for words.Years of struggle against the iron grip of England’s old school ties left his wits sharp and prepared for any situation. Except this one.

There she was. His dreams incarnate sat beside him, looked at him with eager anticipation arching her eyebrows. All he had to do was reach out and grasp what fate had finally deemed to gift him. He swallowed, licked his arid lips, smoothed his mustache, and…

Nothing. 

Then he gazed into her crystal blue eyes. There was no missing the affirmation glistening in the shadows of her lashes. For the first time in a decade, he opened his mouth to let his heart’s words escape. “Marry me, Audrey.”

Tears bubbled up in her eyes as quickly as a spring storm swelled the small stream that bisected the estate, and dampened the the fire of hope in his soul. He’d gone too far and allowed the moment to get the better of his reason. He knew from painful experience confessions of the heart weren’t meant to mix with the grief of departure. But desperation often made one careless enough to become a complete fool. 

Unable to bear the emotions flashing across her face, Richard tried to find something of interest amongst the bits and bobs of her life corralled on the coffee table. He’d take anything it cared to offer if it would divert his attention from the looming apocalyptic end of their tenuous friendship. “I’m sorry, Audrey,” he muttered. 

“For what?”

Richard shook his head and tried to extract his hand from hers. He was a little miffed when she wouldn’t relinquish her hold. Would the blasted woman never allow him to escape with any dignity intact? “For asking for your hand when I no longer have Grantleigh to offer.”

“I wouldn’t marry you if you did.”

He jerked his head up and found her dewy blue eyes shimmering brightly with what had once haunted the background of her gaze. She smiled gently, encouraging him like she’d done when she found him at Perigrine’s Folly. “Despite previous rumor, I am no mercenary, Mr. DeVere.”

Words formed and dissolved so quickly, his brain ordered his eyes shut to defuse the overload. “I never thought…”

An electric tingle near his cheek urged his eyes open as it muted into the comforting warmth of skin against skin. “I never said you did, Richard.”

Everything said and unsaid twinkled in her eyes with all the amused joy of a child’s Christmas. She couldn’t possibly… could she? “Audrey, are you saying—“

The soft pad of her index finger buffered the remaining syllables as her growing smile offered him an unvoiced promise. “Ask me again, Richard.

Before another thought could shove his heart back into the confines of his chest, Richard was on bended knees. “Over the last several days, I’ve come to realize quite a number of things.”

A quick swallow tried to tame the quiver in his voice—and failed brilliantly. “I can live without Grantleigh.” Her fingers trembled against his. Or was it his against hers? “I can do without Cavendish.” The tilt of her head nearly did him in, still, with his throat constricting against his gathering emotions, he carried on. “But I would never survive without you, Audrey.”

Tears gathered in her eyes again; this time breeching the dam of her lower lashes and splashing onto her cheeks. Yet, her smile remained luminous.  
“I love you, Audrey.” He caught a teardrop, and tenderly wiped it away. “Marry me?”

Her soul glistened behind the veil of tears in her eyes. She touched his jaw, her fingertips vibrating against his skin. “I love you, Richard DeVere.” Tingling heat followed the path of her thumb across his cheek. “Yes. I’ll be delighted to marry you.”

He branded her first with the velvety softness of his lips against her. Then came the light nip of teeth until she relented to his claim and opened fully to him. He eased back onto the sofa and drew her into his arms, dancing his tongue against hers and tugging her impossibly closer. Her delicately-boned hands slid along his chest, chilling then heating until they anchored to the lapels of his jacket. Sighs mingled and morphed into passion-drunk moans. The French could keep their finest bordeaux; the Belguims, there best chocolates. Nothing was as delectable as his Audrey’s kisses.

The persistent burning of depleted lungs finally urged him from her. He retreated far enough to rest his forehead against hers. The fire of desire smoldered in those blue eyes darkened them to near-navy, and made him reckless. Spurred him to tempt fate once more. “Come to London with me now, darling.” 

A laugh of disbelief, both familiar and disappointing, curled into his ears. “Be serious, Richard.” She pressed her fists gently but insistently against his chest, and he relented, loosening his grip only enough to allow her a slight retreat toward the sofa’s corner. Letting go completely simply wasn’t an option anymore. “I can’t just drop everything and run off to London with you.” She glanced around the room, conflict painting her soft sigh. “There’s packing to do. Plans to make.” She lowered her hands to his thighs. “Then there’s Brabinger.”

Richard sighed. He’d come to the lodge ready to give her up like he’d relinquished Grantleigh. But now… There was no way he was leaving without her. Not this time. Not ever again. “Leave him a note.” He scooted closer, the outside of her thigh aligning perfectly along his. “As for packing,” he glanced around the room. “There’s nothing here that can’t be found in one of London’s fine shops.” He tightened his hold on her hands. “Just please, come away with me.”

Arched eyebrows telegraphed her uncertainty. “But if you are selling Grantleigh for quick cash—“

He silenced her worry with a kiss. “Business is business, personal is personal.” The skin of her knuckles was soft against the friction of his thumb. “My personal accounts are more than able to accommodate anything you desire.”

Audrey was wavering. All it would take was one more tiny push. “We’ll stop by the manor, let Mother know, and escape this place. We can sort the rest later.” He leaned forward and breath his final plea against her lips. “Just please come with me.”


End file.
